


Stuck? Stuck.

by CockAsInTheBird



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Face Punching, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, Pain, Painplay, Public Hand Jobs, Punching, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24733798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/pseuds/CockAsInTheBird
Summary: “Where you off to, Harrington?” he asks with a flash of predatory teeth and steps into the limited space.Suddenly Steve is feeling hot and claustrophobic, heart racing both from the presence of his enemy, and from the fear that the elevator might not be able to support both their weights.“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he snaps and does his best not to meet those blue skies that just won't give him the same courtesy of pretending the other doesn't exist.“Could be you wanted some company,” Billy says with a low tone that hints at something secret and suggestive.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 141





	Stuck? Stuck.

**Author's Note:**

> I've used the word "fuck" 26 in this document alone

This year for the senior weekend trip, Hawkins High students gets to enjoy a lovely stay at a hotel so cheap it's a risky gamble to even set foot there, and a Saturday trip to the Indianapolis Museum of Art, to which absolutely everyone is equally excited about.

Which is not at all.

Steve groans and sits up in the hard bed he has to sleep in for two whole nights, sharing his room with three other guys from his year that he swears he has never ever seen before, despite them all knowing his name and history quite well.

The drive here hadn't been that long, although it felt like hours, nerve ridden and anxious to not sleep in the safety of his own haunted mansion. Sure it's nice to be surrounded by people on all sides if he were to tell the truth, but...

Billy fucking Hargrove had been staring at him all day, sat two rows behind on the bus, and whenever Steve turned to look, he was met with an icy stare and suspicious grin. Billy had even _actively_ gone out of his way to bump into Steve, push him around and kick his bags away, to which Tommy had laughed and patted Billy on the back, that fucking traitor. Sure they hadn't talked since after the fight with Jonathan, but Steve didn't know their friendship had been so fragile.

With an exhausted sigh and jittery hands, Steve carefully closes the door to his room, then heads down the hallway to find the elevator. He can never sleep when he's away from home, yet Dustin had _convinced him_ that _this is a great idea! Get out and have some fun! People always hook up on those senior trips!_ And then he did that Chewbacca wanna-be purr of a sound, prompting Steve to push his cap down his face.

The elevator climbs slowly up to his floor as he thumbs his lighter, on and off, on and off. Who here would he even hook up with that he _hasn't already_ before he got together with Nancy? And now that they're over and Billy is running the school instead, Steve's odds had fallen even farther into the pits of hell.

He just needs to get out for a smoke, and maybe flirt his way to a drink or two at the sleazy bar; this place doesn't look like it cares about serving minors alcohol, what with the water stained ceiling and floor, the peeling tape, and the creaky as shit elevator, as it barely can manage a _ding_ once it reaches the 4th level.

It whines just the same as he steps inside and feels it bounce dangerously underneath his weight. It requires several attempts and hard jabs from Steve before the ground floor button registers his attempts, and starts closing.

When just in the last second, strong fingers curl around the rusty metal and pries open the doors again.

That grin, those curls, the sun-kissed skin.

 _Billy fucking Hargrove_.

“Where you off to, Harrington?” he asks with a flash of predatory teeth and steps into the limited space.

Suddenly Steve is feeling hot and claustrophobic, heart racing both from the presence of his enemy, and from the fear that the elevator might not be able to support both their weights.

“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he snaps and does his best not to meet those blue skies that just won't give him the same courtesy of pretending the other doesn't exist.

“Could be you wanted some company,” Billy says with a low tone that hints at something secret and _suggestive_.

“And why are you up?” Steve doesn't really care to know, but thoughts of why Billy might be up and about this late flows freely. There would only be one reason, and maybe it's the second floor where all the girls are located.

But he doesn't press the 2nd floor button. Simply puts his hands in his denim jacket and leans with his back against the wall.

“Oh you know _exactly_ why I'm awake this late, _princess_ ,” Billy drawls out and licks his lips.

Which Steve doesn't notice, if anyone were to ask. He pulls up a cigarette from the back he has stashed in his back pocket, and slips it between his lips to save time once they're able to get away from each other again.

Yet it's gone just as quick, as Billy reaches out and snags it away, just to place it beneath his mustache. And Steve stares daggers at him, all too quickly he's angry, but really it takes no time with Hargrove around, as his mere presence in Steve's life in a constant source of pain and fury.

“What the fuck you asshole, give it back!” Steve frowns and clenches his fist with a strong urge to _punch_. It's been too long since he's felt the bliss of nicotine, and he can feel it in his blood. “Get your own shitty cigarettes.”

“Why don't you come over here and take it, then?” Billy muses with a cocky grin that goes from ear to ear.

“Yeah yeah, very mature, give me my fucking cigarette back, Hargrove. I'm almost out of smokes and patience with you.” Steve turns to stare at him now, a few feet apart filled with air so tense you could cut it with a fucking butter knife.

“Well that was quick,” comes the response as a mean spirited chuckle.

“Oh don't be like that; you've been harassing me all fucking day you shit!” And Steve steps closer, up to where he can _feel_ Hargrove's breathing. “What is your deal with me?”

Billy lifts up his chin, looking all brash and smug. “Do I have to have one?”

“Why else would you be making my life a living hell?” Steve's fists clench tighter. “Isn't it bad enough you stole my best friend and 'knocked me off my throne'?” he says with possibly the most infuriated air-quotes anyone could ever manage.

“Nope.” Short and _crude_ , the p popping loudly despite the cigarette caught between teeth.

“Then what the fuck do you want?!”

And as Billy's grin _somehow grows more sinister_ , he doesn't get to answer before there's an abrupt jump of the elevator and a nerve wrecking screech.

The loud whir of cogs and mechanics silent. The elevator has stopped.

“Are... are we...” Steve dares not say, as if that would make it real and not just his imagination.

Billy shoves Steve away and steps over to press a button, _any button_ , and when there's no response, tries a second button, then a third, then _every other option there_. Punches the keys over and over and over-

“Fucking stop that! You're just making it all worse!” Steve shouts and grabs on to Billy's sleeve to tear him away.

“Oh like you know how a fucking elevator works!” Billy snarls back and pushes Steve hard for having even _dared_ to touch him. “I know your grades, I've heard the questions you ask in class, I bet even Max could answer half the shit you can't!”

Steve doesn't even have time to think before he flings his fist after Billy, who catches it perfectly on the nose. Cigarette flies from his mouth, blood drips onto the sticky floor, onto Billy's dirty boots and his clean, white tee. And he continues being unable to think, as Billy _fucking laughs_.

“God damn Harrington, I can't believe you had the guts to do that,” he sounds near insane as he talks, swipes his tongue up to lick his upper lip clean of dark red. “You know you're gonna regret that now, right?”

“According to you I don't know shit.” Steve stands with his feet too far apart, shoulders raised and fists aching for more. As much as he would prefer not to fight, since he _always_ gets his ass kicked, the _rush_ of seeing blood flow from Billy's nose is _invigorating_.

No matter how prepared he thinks he is, Billy's fist still feels like a goddamn boulder against his eye, and barely has Steve staggered backwards at the brute force, before Billy grabs him by the collar of his striped polo and shoves him into a corner; caging him there with his own broad, muscular shape.

“You punch like a girl, _Stevie_ ,” his voice low and... _oddly sensuous?_

He reeks of cologne, teeth sharp and perfect like a wolf, body sturdy and thick, pressed into Steve with such _intent_ that he can feel every inch of _power_.

“What are you gonna do now, Harrington?” Billy's chuckles like thunder in his chest as they stay flush together.

Steve feels his heart beat in his swelling eye, lumping in his throat, beating against his ribs like xylophones, and _somewhere between his legs_. Red really is a great color on Billy's lips.

“What are my options?” he groans out and wants to move away from the insufferable heat that's gathering too far down.

Eyes jump around every one of Billy's strong features, looking like a damn _model_ from afar and up close like this. Jaw square and stubbly, an ocean's view in his eyes, a thousand eyelashes that he doesn't deserve to have, freckles like a starry night that he didn't even know existed on Billy's perfect skin, lips so hopelessly inviting despite the wicked grin.

And maybe Billy catches how he's being _admired_ right now, because his smile falters to a slightly slack jaw. “Doesn't seem like you have any,” he mumbles out, tone _uncertain of something_.

“ _I fucking hate you, Billy_.” Steve can't move his head away, can't tear his gaze from where that tongue peeks out to lick his lips clean once more.

With a timid whisper, barely more than a breath, Billy utters out, “ _I hate me, too_.”

Lips meet with _obscene force_ , Billy pushing against Steve's mouth as if it's his only source of life, and _immediately_ Steve opens up; tastes the metallic blood that still drips slowly down from Billy's wounded nose, and feels that captivating tongue _intrude deep_ as it urgently memorizes every inch of wet heat.

It's as if they've both been starving for years, and now they're all too worried it'll end in the blink of an eye.

Billy bites and pulls at Steve's lower lip with a guttural groan.

“ _Fuck, Billy-_ ” Steve nearly _moans_ out and tries to buck out his hips.

“ _Shut the fuck up_ , _Harrington_ , or I'll punch you again,” Billy _growls_ and dives back in to lick where his teeth had just tortured sensitive skin.

“ _Mmh- ah-_ ” and Steve pulls away to say, “ _Do it._ ”

“What?” Billy has never looked more dumbfounded.

“Fucking hit me again.” Steve licks his lips clean of Billy's blood and stares intensely down at him. “Slap me in the face.”

And Billy grins like the devil, bites down on his tongue, breathing staggered as he contemplates on whether or not Steve is serious. Then brings a flat hand across a pale cheek.

It stings and burns throughout his entire body, anger and lust confusingly mixing and making his blood pump faster, _his cock growing harder_. He pokes at the inside of that cheek where he can practically _feel the red hand print form_.

“God you're a _freak_ , pretty boy.” Billy wags his tongue and stares with a confident brow. “This why Nancy Wheeler left you, huh? She couldn't keep up with your _perverted desires_.”

Steve doesn't speak, simply digs a hand in between them, and oh what an _exciting bulge he finds there_ , one that forces out an “ _Arrh_ ,” from stained lips and feels the hips below urge closer.

“Like you're one to talk.” Now Steve is the one to smirk, crooked and looking like the cat that got the cream.

Which Billy fucking hates. All he can do is press their lips together again and _grind_ his _full dick_ against Steve's hand caught between them. His movement irrepressible as he rolls his hips and swallows every single moan that spills from Steve's puffy lips, _pleased and turned on by every syllable, irritated that Harrington can't just shut the fuck up._

It would be all too easy to get caught like this. _But isn't that just exciting?_

That thought strikes both of them at the same time it seems, because just as Steve moves his hand out of the way, Billy's flies down tear away at their belts, all the while maintaining the rhythmic dance of their ever so insatiable tongues.

Neither dares to utter a single word, because the wrong one could stop it all too soon, so they settle on hushed grunts and groans, barely a cursed word till Billy's hand shoves into Steve's trunks once his fly is down.

“ _A-ah- shit, Billy-_ ” Steve moans out and closes both his hands in the denim jacket.

“Be fucking quiet, Harrington, _I swear to God_ ,” Billy hisses out with his gaze low.

Attention caught on _how fucking long and hairy Steve is, the head of his flushed cock wet with pre._ He doesn't waste any time with getting himself out as well, his own _leaking erection girthy with clear veins snaking around_. Not as long as King Steve's magnificent dick, but definitely wider.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Steve breathes out hard at the sight of them both out in the open like that, shiny and standing at full size.

A moan cuts through him as Billy brings his free hand up to muffle every sound, with such force that it knocks Steve's head into the wall. The pure display of _dominance_ that that move is, makes Steve leak even worse and struggles to keep his eyes open.

“ _I said shut the fuck up_ ,” Billy's voice _deep_ and _threatening_.

Steve feels as if he's staring death in the eyes, and all he can do is whine and thrust his hips into the iron grip around both their _throbbing cocks_. _It's dry and uncomfortable, but fuck if it doesn't get him to where he needs to go_.

And once again their minds must be in perfect sync, because Billy brings up his hand, and Steve _watches intently_ as Billy _spits_ into his palm, clear blue eyes never looking up to catch how burning amber stares.

Finally he gives in, when that slick hand twists around the two of them, and Steve's eyes roll back between fluttering lids as his mind goes blank with searing pleasure. A calloused hand, thick veins, hoarse groans, all of it the only things to matter in his world now, as every practiced _jerk of his all too hard prick_ tears away at his self control and shoves him into the deep end of urges he never realized he had.

 _Urges he doesn't care to ignore_.

Never before has he heard Billy go this long without insulting him, _and he kinda misses it_. He fights to open his eyes again, and catches how Billy's brows are raised high up and pinched together, his mouth wide as he barely manages to choke his own moans before they grow too loud, stare locked down where he's fisting them together with such fervor he could light a fire with it.

Steve is aching to hear Billy call him names, throw around abuse like it's nothing and shame him for _something, anything_. Perhaps tonight will give him new material finally, call him a _queer_ or _gay,_ just to then overpower him as he always does when they fight, now maybe followed by... a handjob? A blowjob? As long as his hands are on him, Steve won't complain anymore.

 _Can't complain when he's so close_. He hadn't realized how _badly he needed release at all_ till Billy had started pushing into him just minutes ago. Had their constant struggle just been pent up sexual tensions? Was _this_ what it was all leading up to? An inevitability? Billy pumping his closed hand around them in a gross as all hell elevator, feeling every single inch of Steve's _painfully intense erection_?

“ _Fuck, ah shit, lift up your shirt,_ ” Billy's quick to groan out with labored breathing that stutters as he speeds up his hand as fast as he can go.

And Steve doesn't hesitate to do as told, brings both hands from Billy's jean jacket to his own striped polo and lifts it up as high as he can, what with the way they're crammed together in a corner.

Feels the heat gather, the coil in his gut tightening till it's seconds away from springing, the vice grip around him doing wonders in pulling him to the edge, then _shoves him off as he cums,_ hips shoving into Billy's rough hand with short bursts as he moans against the one stealing away his air, feels how he ejects wet heat all over his abs in a toe-curling feat.

Shortly followed by Billy as he empties all he's worth onto Steve's stomach, forehead pressed on top of the hand covering Steve's mouth, eyes still unblinking as he watches what a _gorgeous mess they're making_. He squeezes their spent dicks till the last drop drips down his broad fingers, and then lifts up his hand.

Ensures that Steve is _watching_ , as Billy sticks out his whole tongue and _licks his hand clean, sucking on the digits till there's not a trace left_.

Steve moans into his hand at that, and despite the fact that he's been depleted of all his energy, still feels it jolt through him and burn into his memory for forever.

Finally Billy pulls his hand from Steve's mouth, and wipes the spit off in his jeans as he steps away.

And Steve nearly collapses without the support of thick muscles to keep him up, boneless in the afterglow of _the best orgasm he's had in months_. But... what's he going to do with the way they've painted his abdomen? There's no fucking towels or paper here, and he can't just take off his _expensive polo shit_ and use that! He stares down in slight panic and gestures with his hands as if he's just going to, what, _wipe it off?_

When his sight gets blinded by something soft that reeks of musky sweat, and he catches Billy's shirt before it would fall to the floor. He looks up to see Billy put his jacket on again.

“Use that to uh...” He points to the cum that slowly runs down Steve's exposed skin.

Although hesitant for _very good reasons_ , Steve does eventually wipe himself dry with Billy's tee, and _awkwardly hands it back_ , as if he can really use it for _anything now_.

And a prolonged silence fills the air between them, as Steve remains in the corner and Billy struggles a bit with the doors; no clue what floor they're on anymore, and the counter above probably hasn't worked in _years_.

“What happens now?” Steve asks cautiously from where he's sitting in the same corner, a spot that he dares not leave.

Billy groans out a complaint and shakes his head at the immovable steel doors. Then goes to sit next to Steve with only slight space between their bodies.

“You mean if we make it out of here alive?” he laughs, and hears Steve give a tired chuckle as well. “That depends...” his tone grows wary and _serious_. “Harrington... if you tell anyone about this, I will _fucking kill you, you understand?_ ”

Their eyes meet, and in Billy's there's a storm of mixed feelings. Fear of getting hurt, premature anger of being found out about, and _maybe hope?_ But that could just be Steve projecting his own thoughts and feelings onto the other.

“And what if I don't?” Steve swallows hard around the anxiety that clumps together in his throat. “What if I don't tell anyone about... _us_?”

One corner of Billy's rather stern grimace quirks up. “Then I'll see you tomorrow night.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write something a bit bloody and grimy like this, as opposed to how often I just write really soft and sensitive bois, so hopefully I did it right! ;)


End file.
